“When I was eighteen I was placed as a ‘mother’s helper.’ This family simply wanted a cheap servant but I didn’t mind as I couldn’t enlist till I was twenty-one. I did housework and went to night school-pretending to continue my high school typing and shorthand but going to a charm class instead, to better my chances for enlistment.
“Then I met this city slicker with his hundred dollar bills.” He scowled. “The no-good actually did have a wad of hundred dollar bills. He showed me one night, told me to help myself.
“But I didn’t. I liked him. He was the first man I ever met who was nice to me without trying to take my pants off. I quit night school to see him oftener. It was the happiest time of my life.
“Then one night in the park my pants did come off.”
He stopped. I said, “And then?”
“And then nothing! I never saw him again. He walked me home and told me he loved me-and kissed me good-night and never came back.” He looked grim. “If I could find him, I’d kill him!”
“Well,” I sympathized, “I know how you feel. But killing him-just for doing what comes naturally-hmm . . . Did you struggle?”
“Huh? What’s that got to do with it?”
“Quite a bit. Maybe he deserves a couple of broken arms for running out on you, but-”
“He deserves worse than that! Wait till you hear. Somehow I kept anyone from suspecting and decided it was all for the best. I hadn’t really loved him and probably would never love anybody-and I was more eager to join the W.E.N.C.H.E.S. than ever. I wasn’t disqualified, they didn’t insist on virgins. I cheered up.
“It wasn’t until my skirts got tight that I realized.”
“Pregnant?”
“The bastard had me higher’n a kite! Those skinflints I lived with ignored it as long as I could work-then kicked me out and the orphanage wouldn’t take me back. I landed in a charity ward surrounded by other big bellies and trotted bedpans until my time came.
“One night I found myself on an operating table, with a nurse saying, ‘Relax. Now breathe deeply.’
“I woke up in bed, numb from the chest down. My surgeon came m. ‘How do you feel?’ he says cheerfully.
” ‘Like a mummy.’
” ‘Naturally. You’re wrapped like one and full of dope to keep you numb. You’ll get well-but a Caesarian isn’t a hangnail.’
” ‘Caesarian?’ ” I said, ‘Doc-did I lose the baby?’
” ‘Oh, no. Your baby’s fine.’
” ‘Oh. Boy or girl?’
” ‘A healthy little girl. Five pounds, three ounces.’
“I relaxed. It’s something, to have made a baby. I told myself I would go somewhere and tack ‘Mrs.’ on my name and let the kid think her papa was dead-no orphanage for my kid!
“But the surgeon was talking. ‘Tell me, uh-‘ He avoided my name. ‘-did you ever think your glandular setup was odd?’
“I said, ‘Huh? Of course not. What are you driving at?’
“He hesitated. ‘I’ll give you this in one dose, then a hypo to let you sleep off your jitters. You’ll have ’em.’
” ‘Why?’ I demanded.
” ‘Ever hear of that Scottish physician who was female until she was thirty-five?-then had surgery and became legally and medically a man? Got married. All okay.’
” ‘What’s that got to do with me?’
” ‘That’s what I’m saying. You’re a man.’
“I tried to sit up. ‘What?’
” ‘Take it easy. When I opened you, I found a mess. I sent for the Chief of Surgery while I got the baby out, then we held a consultation with you on the table-and worked for hours to salvage what we could. You had two full sets of organs, both immature, but with the female set well enough developed that you had a baby. They could never be any use to you again, so we took them out and rearranged things so that you can develop properly as a man.’ He put a hand on me. ‘Don’t worry. You’re young, your bones will readjust, we’ll watch your glandular balance-and make a fine young man out of you.’